


Just a Few Steps Behind

by Swan_Song



Series: Chronicles of Death (And What Comes After It) [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Afterlife, BECAUSE THEY ARE, Fuhrer Roy Mustang, Post-Canon, it's what they wanted, the future they dreamed about, they're executed as war criminals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 18:07:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20697779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swan_Song/pseuds/Swan_Song
Summary: Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye's last moments. Riza's musings as she's waiting to die. A reunion.





	Just a Few Steps Behind

This was their dream. This is the future they diligently worked toward since the Ishvalan War of Extermination, since their eyes turned from those of naive idealists to those of killers. Amestris was officially a democracy, the fuhrer’s unrivaled power given back to the parliament chosen by the people. Ishval was now a centre of science, religion and trade, instead of a ruined, deserted land soaked in blood. There was an entire generation of children who never knew war, never knew the terror of killing and dying, of villages blown up and people gunned down against a wall. It’s been fifteen years since the Promised Day, ten since Roy became fuhrer. One year since he abdicated and abolished the position. Roy Mustang, the last fuhrer of Amestris, would today be publicly executed, along with all those who were hailed heroes during the war. 

Riza was at least happy that Armstrong went free, as he was one of the few who objected the military’s actions, refused to fight, and also survived Bradley’s wrath. Marcoh would also live, as the Ishvalan elders decided unanimously that the doctor atoned for his crimes with the work he did with Scar through the years.

“What are you thinking about?” Roy’s voice cut through her thoughts. They were imprisoned together, and by god Riza was happy for this small grace. She would be with her commander, her friend, the man she swore to follow to hell, until the moment she died. He looked straight at her, both of them sitting on the floor by each other’s sides. They let their shoulders touch. No need for formality in their last moments, after all. They’re on death row, so why not indulge themselves in the small intimacies they weren’t truly allowed during their time in the military? 

“I’m glad Armstrong isn’t forced here with us. Marcoh too.” She said quietly, looking back at him. He looked so, so terribly familiar as he nodded, remaining silent. She couldn’t help but think about all the time they knew each other.

She was twelve the first time they met, small and wide-eyes and hopelessly neglected and ignored, and her father’s apprentice, looking so grown to her even through his soft, round face and cracking voice, bowed to her respectfully and apologised for intruding on her life so unexpectedly. She was sixteen when her father died, and she stood over his grave with the still soft, still kind Roy. She couldn’t see that face as she turned her back to him and took off her shirt, but she could hear his breath catch in his throat as he saw the secrets of the world tattooed on her back, could feel his voice shake as he realised what was done for her, not quite with her consent, and had to reevaluate all he knew about his mentor. 

She was nineteen on the battlefield, so deeply exhausted and her heart heavy in her chest, when she saw him again. He had the exhausted eyes of a killer, so similar to those of the corpses of her victims, only more desperate. Those she killed never had the chance to see their death coming, after all. She was twenty when the war ended, and she stood with her back to him once again. They both cried in pain there, in her living room, and he later confessed to her that he drank himself to oblivion after she fell asleep and he went home. Less than a month later he ordered her to watch his back, and shoot him if she ever thinks he deviates from the right path.

In her twenty sixth year she looked at his wonderfully familiar face contorted with pain and rage, as it brought back the hope she lost when she was certain he died and already gave up on living. One year later, she aimed her gun at the same face, as the anger and grief pushed him over the edge and forced her to threaten with obeying the order she was given.

In that same day, they looked at each other three more times.

The first, when she was bleeding on the ground, willing him to understand. Willing him to not make the mistake of his life, willing him to see that she has a plan. She looked at him with all the determination she could muster as she was bleeding out, declaring that she wouldn’t die because she was under strict orders not to, and watched the horror in his eyes turn into self loathing. The second she looked at his face as he was desperately searching, eyes devoid of the burning fire that was always somewhere in them. His face was still so familiar, yet so, so different. The third time was when the fighting was over, when Father was defeated and the country was finally safe. He turned to her, and something from his true self shone through. Even with his eyes not really seeing, he was looking toward the future, and that let Riza look forward as well. 

At thirty two, she was standing just a few short steps behind him and do the side as he was appointed fuhrer. He looked at her, that ridiculous moustache she begged him not to grow just barely visible on his upper lip, trying to make his face slightly harder but not really managing to get rid of the softness his round face gave him, and she still saw the sixteen years old she met twenty years earlier, who tried to make his voice sound deeper to seem older. 

And now she was forty two, and his face still looked round and soft. She indulged herself, memorising this face that she already memorised for the past thirty years. There were a bit more wrinkles, a bit less baby-fat on the cheeks, but he was still Roy.  _ Her _ Roy. She knew him like she did herself, and maybe even better. That knowledge of him already saved both their lives.

There were steps outside, and they didn’t sound like the guards. In front of the cell stopped a familiar man, with golden hair and golden eyes. His hair wasn’t braided anymore, and he didn’t done his red coat since he was sixteen, but Edward Elric’s face was also one she was deeply familiar with. She watched him grow from an eleven years old lonely orphan to the man he was now, with family all across multiple countries.

“What are you doing here, Fullmetal?” Roy asked, reverting to his old code name. He didn’t want Ed to watch them die. Neither of them did. That boy was a younger sibling to them, someone they aspired to protect. They didn’t want to cause him pain like that. He was left by enough people, after all. 

“Shut up, Colonel Bastard.” Ed’s voice was tired as he fell down to sit in front of them. “Did you really think I would let you die alone? Like hell, Roy. Like hell.” He lowered his head, shaking it slightly. “Alicia couldn’t come. She said she won’t be able to take it, and she hopes you understand and forgive her. Gracia too. They… It’s hard for her to watch more people die. Furey, Havoc, Falman and Breda are out there. Catalina too. I guess… we came to say goodbye.” He wiped at his eyes quickly, frustrated, and Riza couldn’t help but smile softly. 

“Don’t change, Ed.” She said softly, inching closer to the bars his head was pressed to. She put a careful hand on his head, affectionate and caring. “Tell Gracia and Alicia that of course we understand. There’s nothing to forgive. I wish this didn’t have to happen.” Her voice was sad, but not too much. It wasn’t entirely the truth.

“You’re usually a better liar than that, Riza. You and I both know it’s not true. Cause that would mean this country is still ruled by the military. But it still feels unfair.” He shut his eyes tight, head down and just soaking the last time he would be near them.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Roy joined them. His hands were forcibly separated, to ensure he doesn’t try to use alchemy. Not that he would. He put his hand on Ed’s right, the hand that he didn’t have for the first five years they knew each other. “I’m not having second thoughts, or regrets, but it still feels weird to walk to my death. Guess now that you’re here I’m going to have to be even braver, huh? Can’t have you mocking me for dying like a coward.” Ed smiled a little, and it was obvious that all of their smiles were for the others.

“Say hi to Hughes from me, okay?” Ed got up, steeling his heart and looking at them. They nodded with a sad smile.

“By the way, Edward, you still didn’t return that money you borrowed. Bring it back to me when you join us in hell. And don’t you dare do that too early, I want at least five decades to complain about this.” Roy forced an annoyed expression on his face, the age-old argument of the 520 cens loan playing for the last time.

“We love you, Ed.” Riza added finally, only getting a nod before he walked away. Riza and Roy remained seated on the ground, side by side, keeping the tears inside for the other. Shoulders pressed together, Riza wondered what would happen next. She wondered at what order they’ll be executed. If she’ll have to watch him die, or if she will be the one going first this time. Or maybe they would go at the same time, all of them lined up against a wall to be taken down.

Roy, on the other hand, wondered where they’d go after they die.

His parents didn’t talk about the afterlife with him. They didn’t talk with him much at all. And then they were killed in a bombing and he was sent to live with his aunt. Madam Christmas talked about a garden you wander for all eternity, searching for the people you lost. Roy didn’t spend much time thinking about an afterlife before he was dragged kicking to face the Truth. He was briefly religious, and then again, he was right there in the courtyard when Edward Elric punched god through the stomach. Wherever or whatever the afterlife was, if it even existed, Roy hoped he would be able to look for others. He needed to update Hughes about how his wife and daughter were doing, needed to truly apologise to Heathcliff… and he couldn’t be separated from his lieutenant. His subordinate. His queen.

When it was just about time to go out and face their end, he turned to Riza once more, eyes burning and serious.

“Promise me that you’ll keep your head high. If I go first… keep your head up. Don’t cry for me, don’t break. Please.” He asked. She didn’t know it yet, but he did. He knew that he would be facing the firing squad first, because he tried to save her that fate. Tried to negotiate a different sentence. Tried to negotiate an eye-for-an-eye, equivalent exchange type of execution, where he’d be set on fire but she would be killed in one clean shot and spared the pain, both killed the way they killed others. It wasn’t accepted, but he knew he was going first.

“Is that an order, sir?” Her eyes were serious, and she returned to be his soldier, just a few steps behind him at all time, ready to watch his back and ready to shoot it if he goes too far. And she still wouldn’t call him his name, not since the war. Well, he couldn’t be hypocritical. After all, it’s not like he called her her name anywhere but his head. His eyes softened.

“I think we’re past orders, aren’t we?” He asked sadly, stopping himself from reaching his arm to her.

“Maybe. Still.” Her eyes were sad and soft as she looked straight into his.

“I won’t order you this. I don’t think I’ve given you such an illogical order in the past fifteen years. I’m asking you.” He shook his head.

“Then I’ll take it as an order.” She nodded seriously, lowering her head.

She had a feeling he knew, beforehand, that he will go first. That’s why he asked her to promise. She remembered, clear as day, the moment she was tricked by Lust to believe that he’s dead. She could hear her own hopeless, desperate cream, devolving into sobs, and her weak request that Alphonse leaves her behind and runs away. She wouldn’t fall apart like that this time. Her face was blank and serious, dead and empty, as he faced the firing squad. His head was up high, black eyes piercing the crowd, before he spared a glance straight at her. He then looked right at the firing squad, facing them head first. He didn’t cower, didn’t flinch, didn’t give any sign of regret or fear as the bullets pierced his body.

Riza didn’t flinch either. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to fall to the ground, but she couldn’t. She was ordered not to, and thus she wouldn’t. If his orders could stop her from dying, they could stop her from falling apart. And like always, she was just a few steps behind her commander. As she walked forward, her expression was blank. She looked around, finding her old crew in the crowd, along with Ed, who locked eyes with her. He didn’t cry, and for that she was grateful. She didn’t know if she would be able to obey her order if he was crying for her. 

She died with a smile on her lips, the soft, sad smile of those who accepted their fate, and hoped to meet their loved ones in the afterlife. And she didn’t think about her barely remembered mother, or about her distant father. No, in her final moments, Riza Hawkeye thought about a back turned to her, an awfully familiar back that belonged to an awfully familiar man who she swore to follow to hell, not knowing that years later she would do just that.

“Last station! Everyone get off, this is the final station!” An unfamiliar voice greeted her when she woke up, leaned against the window of a train. She got up in a haze, walking down the passage in the crowd of people who looked as dazed as her. She got off, looking around at a vaguely familiar train station, in the way that most train stations looked more or less the same. She noticed that she was wearing her uniform, as neat as she always made sure to keep it. Looking around, she noticed a familiar figure, also in the same blue of the uniform, with stars on his shoulders. In a flash, she remembered. Dead. They’re dead. 

And then he smiled at her, a soft, sad smile.

“You’re here.” He didn’t add anything more, but Riza knew. She knew that even now, he hoped for some miracle that would let his subordinates escape this sentence.

“I did tell you, sir, I’ll follow you into hell if you asked.” She returned a small smile, like a private joke or a secret. 

“And so you did… Riza.” That was the first time, since they met in the war, that he called her by her given name. It felt intimate, so weird yet so right, like a puzzle piece falling into place.

“I’m not sorry, Roy.” She smiled, reassuring that she has no regrets over what happened. He nodded, offering her a hand. And as they walked away, for once, she wasn’t just a few steps behind him. She was right by his side, holding his hand as they walked together into the infinity.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration hit me last night, so I decided to write this. FMA is one of my favourite fandoms, and I have a bunch of ideas that I never quite manage to get out properly, but I decided that I'll put this one out there cause fuck it.


End file.
